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There's another fight down the wing. Aaron can hear the growing yells, loud jeers and catcalls filling the air as more inmates fly past the door of his cell in search of the scrap. There's a thud; a sickening sound that Aaron can picture in his mind.
It only adds to the deafening white noise inside his head.
The bed frame creaks as he shuffles, turning over to lay on his side with his arm tucked under the pillow. He struggles to hold back his grimace as the sheets scratch against his jumper while the mattress remains stiff under his weight.
He misses his bed.
His and Robert's bed.
They'd only bought a new mattress Robert moved in last July. Charity had made some predictably smutty jokes, Liv had poked fun at Robert's age, but Aaron liked the sentimentality of it. Relationships are fragile things, and sometimes Aaron had wondered if they both had one foot out the door, ready to flee at the first sign of trouble. Buying a mattress together, though. Buying sheets and pillows, bickering over the colours, materials and prices – it felt like they were finally closing the door. Finally deciding to be all-in.
He wonders if Robert is there now. On the bed that they bought together, lying alone just like Aaron. They've been apart before, sure – but never like this. They'd bought iPads just for overnight stays, so they could Skype all night if they wanted to. Fall asleep and wake up together no matter how many miles between them. Nothing compares to the real thing, but right now – Aaron would just settle for a direct line to his husband.
His husband. The words don’t feel real yet. They’re still so fresh and unfamiliar on his lips, but now he has to bite his tongue and pretend Robert is nothing. It isn’t fair.
None of this is fair. Over the past few days, Aaron has spoken to some of the other lads on the wing. He’s listened to the tales of their offences, heard the distinct lack of remorse in their voices. All the while, Aaron stood there with unimaginable levels of regret still coursing through him. For what he did, and for everything that he caused in the aftermath. He was sorry the moment the rest mist cleared, yet he’s been thrown in with people who proudly admit they’d do it all over again. That it was worth it.
Aaron understands why he's been punished, of course he does, but he feels like the only person with any shred of decency. Yet, despite everything, they’re the ones who get to see their wives and girlfriends. They’re the ones who get to hold them and kiss them hello and goodbye. Aaron can’t even wear his damn wedding ring. They don’t deserve the luxury. He might have one of the shorter sentences, but it feels like the heaviest.
It isn’t fair.
The bottle on the desk catches his eye. Shower gel. Perrie’s of Harrogate, to be precise. One that Robert had picked on their trip to the January sales. Robert had rolled on top of him that morning, when Aaron was still half-asleep and malleable, promising him a takeaway tea and a night of total control. Much like Robert later that evening, Aaron was at his mercy and agreed. Standing in the shop, Aaron had scoffed at the 3 for 2 ‘deal’ which was still five times more expensive than Aaron’s choice, but he couldn’t deny that he’d miss the smell if Robert ever stopped using it.
The first time he’d caught its scent was their first hotel stay. Back when Robert was engaged to Chrissie and Aaron was nothing more than a dirty little secret. It feels like a lifetime ago, but he can remember it so clearly. The cold glass against his back. The steam encasing their embrace. Robert’s face pressed into the crook of Aaron’s neck, nipping gently as his hand slowly drifted down his spine until his fingertips were able to tease at him. A question, always a question. One that Aaron always answered with a breathless yes.
It wasn’t until last year that he realised just how much comfort it brought him, and just how much he’d missed it. His head on Robert’s shoulder as they perched on the bonnet of a car, Robert’s arm around him as he focused on his breathing to steady his sobs. His nose pressed against Robert’s leather-clad shoulder as they hugged on the bridge, Aaron allowing himself to melt into the arms that held him so tight. His face tucked into Robert’s neck the night before the verdict, finally able to call Robert his, and feeling something he hasn't for a long time – hope for the future.
A sharp snap breaks Aaron from his reverie, and he glances at the door in time to see two lads tear past, fists filled with each other’s jumpers. A moment later, the blood-thirsty crowd follows. With a scoff, he muses that he’s probably the only person on the wing not watching.
That’s when it hits him.
The showers will be free.
Swinging his legs over the edge, Aaron jumps from his bunk and grabs the shower gel. Robert had only used it once before Aaron left and daft as it sounds, just knowing his husband has held it spreads a comforting warmth around his body. He steps towards the door, turning right and walking in the opposite direction to the fray, clutching the bottle in his hands.
Perhaps, if he tries hard enough, he’ll be able to focus on the scent and pretend his husband his beside him, allowing him to finally get some sleep.